Past Harm, Past Healing
by Aris Merquoni
Summary: Dr. Franklin meets a group of three Minbari...


Beta thanks: Adi, for giving me confidence and swift kicks to the rear.

Disclaimer: Treat the owners of thy fandom with care, for they own all characters, places, and names, and thou shall have no further claim on them than thine own Fair Use. (Characters belong to J. Michael Straczynski or are based on his works.)

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Only one jump away from Beta Durani, Driffin Station was still in nonhuman territory. Stephen had met Markab before this, but this was actually the first time he'd been on one of their space stations. 

It was also the first time he'd been on hand when a ship crashed on a planet below, but there always had to be a first time. The emergency shuttle was docking, Markab volunteers standing by with gurneys. The station wasn't large enough to have more than one fully equipped medbay, and Stephen worried about having enough supplies on hand. If there was time, he could send a message to Beta Durani, but it all depended on the state of the victims...

"You said you recognized the configuration of the ship?" he asked the doctor for the station, Emerriz.

Dr. Emerriz shrugged. "I have never seen one before, but it appears to be a Minbari vessel, a single-man long-distance transport vehicle."

"Minbari?"

"Yes. They do not tend to range beyond their borders, which are some distance away. To see a ship of this sort this far away is incredible. I would almost say it is possible that the ship itself is crewed by some other race..."

The doors opened, and Emerriz turned to give orders in his native language to the volunteers. Stephen had started learning Markab on his way to the station, and could make out a few of the commands.

"If it's a one-person vehicle..."

"Why the extra stretchers? Just in case." Emerriz followed the volunteers into the docking area, where they pulled three--Three! In a one-man ship!--humanoids out of the rescue ship and transferred them to the mobile gurneys.

One of them was awake, barely, murmuring in his--her? own language. The other two were unconscious. Stephen trotted alongside Emerriz, who was frowning in concern. "They breathe oxygen, right?" It looked like it; the talking one wasn't choking on the air, and that was a good sign.

"I think so. We'll have the atmospheric analysis from their ship when we get to medbay."

Stephen was given the worst of the three to work on, while Emerriz attempted to stabilize the other two. She, and Stephen had to call her she, had crushed ribs and broken arms, as well as a bruised and possibly fractured skull. That was his immediate concern; he put her on an oxygen feed and set about trying to alleviate any swelling. The exoskelatal bonelike protrusion around her head made his job harder, but it also held her skull in place, so he didn't attempt to remove it.

She died on the table, within ten minutes. Cursing briefly, he moved to help Emerriz. They saved the other two, but the male, who had been unconscious when they brought the three in, had slipped into a coma.

The next day, infection set in.

The woman woke up midday. Her eyes darted around, took in the equipment, the IV attached to her arm. "Markaht?" she asked, when she saw him sitting at her side. "Riell?"

They could be names; they could be requests for information. Stephen leaned forward. "I'm Doctor Stephen Franklin," he said, as soothingly as he could. "We're trying to help."

He couldn't bring himself to tell her that everything was going to be okay. She couldn't understand him, anyway.

He tried several other languages. She seemed to recognize Centauri, but not enough to respond. So he talked in English, and listened to her speak, and tried to understand. Her name was Feyya.

Stephen and Emerriz performed a thorough autopsy on the other woman, trying to get information to counter the infection now racing through Feyya and the other Minbari. While examining her, Stephen found old scars, like white letters, all up and down her arms and torso. Some sort of ritual? Nothing of the sort appeared on either Feyya or the man. Stephen realized there were too many mysteries here for him to unravel.

He let Feyya leave her bed, under his supervision. She cried at the body of the other woman, sat at the man's side for long, pensive moments, stroking his hands. Riell was the woman's name, and Markaht the man's. They had been on the run. Feyya was the pilot. They were glimpses, only.

He tried to ask about the scars on Riell's arms. Feyya wouldn't answer. Markaht died within the week.

He couldn't stop the infection.

He was learning bits of Feyya's language. Sometimes that made it harder.

"Death," she said near the end, "Is a kind of--" and a word he didn't know.

"It'll be all right." He put down the scanner. "It'll be all right."

She smiled. "I should tell you. ---- says I have to tell. Riell, she was ----. Called to serve. Markaht and I and she, it was forbidden. She was called to serve."

"I don't understand. Some sort of..." He didn't have the words, so he finished in English, "religious vow?"

Feyya frowned at the English, and ignored him. "I pilot, pilot our ship. Try to find a new home for us. Markaht, studied long, languages... Riell sees, can see for us."

"See for us..." Telepath?

"But..." Feyya sighed, closed her eyes. "Cursed... Irony, for us." Then something low and quick he didn't catch.

"Feyya? Feyya!"

Almost on the edge of hearing. "Markaht never meant to hurt..."

He left later that week, after she succumbed to the infection. He thought, briefly, of going back to human space. But there was a ship heading for the Markab homeworld, and this was a good chance to explore. Besides, he was learning their language, pretty quickly, too.

Sometimes, that made it easier.


End file.
